


keep your hands on me

by alwaysbuddy



Series: some nebulous universe called domesticity [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dream Sex, Established Relationship, Feminization, Future Fic, Genderswap, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alwaysbuddy/pseuds/alwaysbuddy
Summary: “Not a girl then?”“It was, yeah,” Jack admits, throat feeling a little tight, “you were the girl.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first square for the **[Check Please! Kink Bingo](https://checkpleasekinkbingo.tumblr.com/)** fanworks challenge! I was pretty undecided on which line to go on for mine at first, but this square was pretty enticing to write. 
> 
> For the prompt/square: ' **erotic dreams** ' | [L1, R5](http://i.imgur.com/qXcjSI1.jpg)
> 
> This is probably going to tie in to another one of my squares, so there'll probably be a sequel to this little bit here!

  
  
  


He’s touching someone. 

“C’mon,” she murmurs, tone honeyed and sweet, and Jack’s fingers drift a little higher, almost cautious, ghosting over that pale expanse of skin between her knee and the hem of her pleated skirt, “don’t be shy, babe.” Her voice lowers, a teasing lilt, and Kent says, “Aren’t you gonna make me feel good?”

He’s touching _Kent_. 

Soft, fleeting touches at first, but at Kent’s words, he feels a little bolder, a little more daring, and he flattens his hand over Kent’s skin, stroking his thumb against the inside of her thigh, moving upwards until he can palm over her hip, until he can brush against soft cotton, already damp under the skirt. Kent laughs, breathy and pleased, the way he always does when Jack rises to the bait, and for a last, truly rational moment, Jack’s desire-addled mind questions why Kent’s wearing a skirt, when he’s not a girl—

Slim fingers wrap around his wrist firmly, turning it slightly so that his fingers are between Kent’s legs instead of over her hip, and the thought becomes the last thing on his mind when he remembers that he has Kent lying here under him, hot and wet and wanting Jack’s fingers on her. Wanting his fingers _in_ her. Almost in response, Kent spreads her knees a little more, her soft pink tongue darting out to lick at her lip.

A sharp thrill of desire rockets through him. He’s hard already, and Jack doesn’t ask when he tugs Kent’s panties down to the knee, and trails his fingers through the slickness he finds. Kent makes a soft sound, hips canting forward, and Jack holds her down with his other hand as he presses two fingers into her, and rubs, achingly slow, at her clit with the pad of his thumb, just enough to make her roll her hips into his palm impatiently. 

“Jack, c’mon,” Kent says, voice thick with need, one hand gripping at the sheets and the other cupping her breast through the material of the thin t-shirt she’s wearing, one of Jack’s with a Samwell logo across the front, as she rolls her thumb over the outline of her nipple, hard and peaked, “I want your mouth on me.”

And Jack thinks, well. Of course, since Kent has a cunt, he’ll put his mouth on her. It feels like the best course of action. It doesn’t seem strange, despite the niggling thought in the back of his head that makes him feel a little slow and sluggish with each moment, but he sets it aside and considers the way Kent inhales shakily when he rests his cheek on the inside of her thigh, and presses a chaste kiss to her clit, nudging his nose into coarse, dark blonde curls.

“Fuckin’ tease,” Kent gasps, and Jack turns the close-mouthed kiss into something dirtier when he opens his mouth to close his lips over her clit, and then press his tongue against it, before dragging his tongue down in a long, broad stripe, and then up again in the same way. He can feel Kent trembling, wanting to draw his face even closer, through the loud whine that she lets out, and it makes his dick swell even more in his shorts, makes him want to grind against the bed just to relieve some pressure. He does, and it’s ridiculous how just going down on Kent is making him aroused beyond the point of even thinking straight.

“Jack,” Kent is saying, and her voice sounds a little further away now, even as Jack shuts his eyes momentarily, the sluggish feeling from before coming back, _“Jack.”_

He’s touching someone, isn’t he?

“Jack,” Kent’s voice comes, harder this time, and it’s accompanied by a shove. 

His eyes fly open, and he grabs at the bed before he falls off, muttering, “What—Kenny, the fuck?”

Kent stares at him from where he’s lying, eyes half-lidded with sleep and mouth turned in a way that says he’s most definitely not amused by whatever’s made him attempt to push Jack out of the bed. The bed in the hotel room that the both of them are staying in. The bed in the hotel room where Kent—who is most definitely _not a girl_ —had been dozing in, right up to the point where Jack had apparently woken him up.

Oh.

“Christ,” Kent says, voice deep and rough, far from the high, soft moans it had formed in Jack’s dream, “you were shakin’ the whole fuckin’ bed with your dirty fuckin’ dreams there, asshole. I’ve got an early practice, I need the sleep.”

“Sorry,” Jack mumbles, thoroughly embarrassed as he settles back against the sheets, pulling them back up from where he’d almost kicked them off completely. His skin still feels a little too heated, and he’s still undeniably hard, and he knows that Kent is probably appraising the red flush across his face. He can see it already, the moment Kent’s expression goes from irritated to amused, and then to curious.

“So,” Kent says, intrigued, and his hand brushes against Jack’s hip as he edges closer. “Who was it about? Someone from your team? Some dude from a porno?” His finger strokes lightly over the hem of Jack’s boxers, and the touch bleeds over into the remnants of the dream, making him shiver, a tinge of something catching in his gut again. “Was it about a girl?” Jack doesn’t answer to anything, but Kent somehow catches the look in his eyes, and continues, “were you fucking her with your fingers? Eating her out?”

“Both,” Jack says, despite himself, and the way he usually just scowls when Kent attempts to be crass just to fuck with him. Kent lifts an eyebrow. “Because you like it when I use my fingers.”

Kent’s gaze sharpens under the light threading through the gap in the curtains. “Not a girl then?”

“It was, yeah,” Jack admits, throat feeling a little tight, “you were the girl.”

Outside, cars honk, and more lights flicker absently. Jack’s learnt how to fall asleep in hotels in too-crowded cities, and Las Vegas is no exception. They’d scored their two points against the Aces just hours ago, and he’d let Kent in after Kent had come back from commiserating with his team about the end of their twelve-game winning streak. They’d exchanged quiet words, exchanged handjobs, and then curled up against each other in the warm bed. 

(Jack supposes it’s much easier to fall asleep despite the liveliness of the still-bustling city outside, what with Kent beside him on nights like these.)

Now, Kent’s completely awake. Jack waits for the laugh to come, and the accompanying chirp, but Kent just sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Man,” he says, as if he’s picturing it for himself, “that’s actually pretty hot. Was I a cute girl? I bet I was.”

“Yeah,” Jack replies, and his mind helpfully supplies him with images he thought he’d just shaken: blonde hair that curled around slim shoulders, soft skin, perky breasts. But on Kent. Kent’s slim frame, Kent’s teasing smile, _Kent._ He feels himself getting aroused again, and he tries to shove all the desire back where it came from. “Fuck.”

And of course, Kent notices. “I see,” is all he says, before he lets the hand that’s been resting against Jack’s hip skim up a little further, his palm warm where it stops on Jack’s chest, a light touch. “Did you touch me like this?” His other hand goes to encircle Jack’s wrist, a burning reminder of how dream-Kent had done the same thing. Kent tugs Jack’s hand close, and sets it on his thigh, almost knowingly. As if he’d been right there, in the dream, knowing what Jack did, and how Jack touched him, soft and careful as if it’d been Kent’s first time.

“Yes,” Jack answers, biting his lip. “Yes, but you wanted—you wanted more.”

“Yeah?” Kent laughs, adding, “I wouldn’t be surprised,” and it’s just as pleased and breathless as before, only lower, and he tilts his head along his pillow, shuffling even nearer. The tip of his nose skims along Jack’s jaw. “C’mon,” Kent murmurs, and Jack distantly wonders whether this is a case of imagination becoming reality, or whether his brain had just known Kent well enough to accurately portray him in a dream. “Show me what I wanted, Jack.”

Jack inhales sharply, and lifts himself up on one elbow, shifting over to straddle Kent’s waist. His hand remains on Kent’s knee, holding on gently, and he looks down at Kent, who’s pretending to be coy about the whole thing. “You wanted me to touch you,” Jack says, voice quiet in the still air of the room. He watches Kent’s expression carefully, wanting to see the minute changes that flicker across his face as Jack runs his thumb over Kent’s knee, soft and teasing, the way his lips part just a fraction when the tips of Jack’s fingers run warm along the hem of Kent’s shorts, the way his pupils dilate when Jack presses the heel of his palm between Kent’s legs. “You wanted—” Jack licks his lips, thinks about how he’d felt, in the dream, and murmurs instead, “I wanted to kiss you. Everywhere.”

Kent matches his gaze evenly, and says, “Kiss me, Jack.”

Jack does. 

A first one, into the curve of Kent’s clavicle. He’s not wearing a shirt, so Jack lets his mouth trail south, sucking wet little kisses into Kent’s skin, knowing that they’ll show up on his skin in the morning, knowing that his team will probably see them, but Jack feels crazed, a little dizzy, and he almost wants them to see. He wants them to know that Kent’s been all marked up by someone, that he belongs to someone. 

He closes his mouth over Kent’s nipple, using a little bit of teeth just to get a reaction out of Kent, before continuing down. He curls his fingers into Kent’s underwear, tugs it down, and kisses Kent’s half-hard cock, hearing the moan that Kent lets out when Jack reaches under his balls to run a finger along the rim of his hole.

“Turn over,” Jack says, heart pounding in his throat “I wanna go down on you.”

Kent obliges, and he settles against the sheets on his elbows and knees, his ass up in the air. For Jack. Jack runs a palm over the curve of Kent’s ass, and and feels the way Kent pushes back into his grip, drawn to the warmth of Jack’s hand against his skin. 

Jack will never tire of this, the way Kent can take the lead so firmly some nights, dictating everything the whole way through, and then give himself up completely to Jack, letting him set the pace.

“You wanted my mouth on you.” His fingers run along the backs of Kent’s thighs, up into his crease, until he’s parting Kent’s cheeks, spreading him open, baring him wide for Jack to lean in and press his lips against Kent’s hole wetly, letting his breath run hot, at the same time rubbing his thumb along his rim, the furl of skin that clenches when Jack says, “God, Kent.”

Kent shudders out a low whine in reply, and Jack holds him steady, even as he drags his tongue over Kent’s hole, alternating between quick little licks and long motions, the same way he would if it were a girl. It’s a heady feeling, watching Kent fight a losing battle with his limbs to stay upright, and it threatens to split him open when Kent ends up half-curled into the pillow, laid out on the bed on his stomach, knees spreading wider for Jack to finally push the tip of his tongue in.

When he does, Kent cries out sharply, only remembering to muffle his cry against the pillow, and Jack circles his rim with his tongue again, before fucking it back into him, deeper each time he pulls out and dives back in. Kent’s flushed, red-hot, and he’s got a hand in his hair, tugging as if it’s the only thing keeping him in the moment, otherwise he’d be completely gone by now.

Jack pulls away for a half-second, exhaling before pressing another wet kiss to Kent’s hole. It’s sloppy, but the past few minutes have achieved his purpose. “You’re so wet,” Jack says, and the tip of his finger sinks into Kent without any resistance. Kent’s shoulders jump, and he slumps forward, eyes falling shut as his mouth falls open. 

“Mm, yeah,” Kent slurs, “so wet for you, Jack. You gonna fuck my cunt with your fingers now?”

Jack swears, overwhelmed. “Yeah,” he says says, lightheaded, like he’s gone three days without sleep, “yeah, fuck, ‘m gonna— _fuck.”_ It’s almost painful to tug himself away to go fumble for the lube that’s still sitting on the dresser from their earlier romp, and Kent makes a wounded sort of noise when he goes, but then Jack’s settling back by him, and turning him over again, because he wants to see Kent’s face when he finally fucks him, good and hard.

He slicks up his fingers, and, because Kent’s words are still ringing in his head, adds more when he’s pushing one finger in, and then more when his second finger breaches Kent’s hole, and Kent’s clenching tight around him when he fucks both fingers in deep, the slide even easier.

Kent reaches out, wraps his fingers around the back of Jack’s neck, and tugs him up for their lips to meet, a kiss that’s more breath than tongue, just the exchange of moans when Jack angles the curl of his fingers the way Kent likes it. “You feel that?” Jack whispers against Kent’s cheek, unable to help himself from tasting Kent’s skin, the sweat along the sharp curve of his jaw, one hand reaching up to push back the damp hair that’s stuck to his forehead. “You feel how slick you are? You’re taking it so easily, god. You’re such a good girl.”

“Yeah,” Kent breathes, hooking one foot over Jack’s shoulder, his toes curling when Jack sucks a kiss under his chin, one more mark to add to his tally. “Your good girl, oh— _fuck, Jack,_ please.”

“Tell me what you want,” Jack says, three fingers deep into Kent, and he’s going to burst if Kent doesn’t say the words he’s hoping to hear right now. “Tell me, Kent.”

“I want your cock in me,” Kent says, and he turns his face to nudge Jack back into another kiss, licking at his lower lip, probably tasting himself on Jack’s tongue, and god, Jack’s so gone he can’t even speak. “Fill me up, babe. I wanna feel your cock in my cunt, Jack, _please.”_

“Fuck,” Jack groans, shaky and so needy with it. He doesn’t even bother to lube himself up, Kent’s already slick enough, and it’s agonisingly slow when he presses the tip in, just letting Kent accustom himself to the stretch first, before he goes deeper. It’s a tight heat that consumes him completely, from where he’s connected to Kent, right out to the tips of his fingers. The air-conditioning is on, but he’s still damp with sweat, feeling like he’s burning up all over, and so is Kent. And it’s just—

“So _wet,”_ Kent gasps, rolling his hips up to meet Jack’s slow thrusts, and his head falls back against the pillow, cheeks heated and flushed with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment, “oh, _fuckin’,_ fuck—it’s really—”

“Yeah,” Jack agrees mindlessly, even though all he can focus on right now is the feeling of Kent around him, surrounding him, and Kent’s hooking his ankles around Jack’s head and letting Jack take him, face shuttered in that expression he has when he’s close. Jack is too, can feel the tight sensation beginning low in his balls, the way his thrusts are becoming more erratic without his control, and he murmurs, voice low, “Going to fill you up so good, you’re going to feel it in the morning.”

Kent shivers, cries out, and comes when Jack finally gets his hand around Kent’s cock and fists it, once, twice, and it’s when Kent goes tight around Jack that his own vision blurs, and his hips shove up against the backs of Kent’s thighs, burying himself deep when he comes. Kent scrabbles at the sheets, gasps when he feels Jack shoot inside him, hot and full, and he lets out a full-body sigh, sated and tired, when Jack pulls out.

“Mm,” Kent says, and he untangles his limbs from Jack’s, stretching. “Gonna be wiped during practice tomorrow.” He glances over at Jack, who’s lying beside him, trying to catch his breath, and grins. “Worth it.”

Jack smiles, exhausted, and he edges over to kiss Kent. It’s only out of pure daring that he reaches down to trail his fingers through the come on Kent’s stomach, and then pushes them back into Kent, just to feel how loose he still is. 

Kent shivers, and bats away Jack’s hand. “Stop,” he says, “or you’ll work me up again.”

“Really like it that wet, huh?”

“Could say the same for you.” Kent smirks. “You should’ve dreamt me up as a chick ages ago.”

“Fuck off,” Jack says, but there’s no heat behind the words, and Kent just laughs, drawing Jack closer. 

“For the record,” Kent says, “I liked it too. So—the next time you’re in Vegas, I’m gonna surprise you.”

“With what.”

“Don’t ask what it is, asshole. That would just ruin the surprise.”

“Right,” Jack says, and Kent rolls his eyes, and drapes his arm heavily over Jack, shutting his eyes to finally get some winks in before they have to wake up obscenely early.

They’re still absolutely filthy, but they’ll clean up in the morning. _It’s fine,_ thinks Jack, as he settles back in with his nose along the line of Kent’s neck, breathing in the scent of the both of them. He’ll have this while he can, first.

 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://schadenfraudulent.tumblr.com/).


End file.
